Losing Everything
by Rosawyn
Summary: "United in their sorrow and confusion over losing everything they'd ever known, they had clung to each other for comfort when the nightmares got too bad." Rated T for references to character death and suggestive dialogue.
1. Chapter 1

**Losing Everything**

They had worked all night and into the morning. First, carrying Jet's body out of the Dai Li's base, and then burying it. Since neither was a bender, the job was difficult and exhausting. They worked in silence; tears still fell from Smellerbee's eyes, but they fell silently.

It was midmorning when they stood together staring at the finished grave. Slowly, Smellerbee sank to her knees, eyes open but unseeing, tears coursing like rivers down her cheeks. "He's really gone," she said, her voice hoarse and defeated.

Longshot knelt beside her and she turned her face to him with a look so lost and scared she seemed the child she'd been when they first met. United in their sorrow and confusion over losing everything they'd ever known, they had clung to each other for comfort when the nightmares got too bad. Today felt like a nightmare and she found herself clinging to him again. The arms around her were stronger and the chest she sobbed against broader than they had been in childhood, but he was still the same Longshot she depended on, the only person she really trusted. Sometimes in their early days together, she had told him of her dreams; sometimes talking helped her relax again. He had never said anything about his dreams, but she had always understood. Today, she didn't feel like talking either.

He pressed a kiss into the top of her head and his tears wet her hair.

ooo

Longshot awoke thirsty and hungry. He didn't know what time it was, but it was dark. Smellerbee was asleep, snuggled against his chest. She whimpered and curled in on herself as he eased himself away and stood. Pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and tucked it under her chin. His mother used to tuck him into bed this way, long ago in that other life. He had felt safe and secure and loved in his warm little bed in his cosy little house with his mother's gentle kisses and his father's cheerful smile, until the Fire Nation had burned it all to cinders.

It hadn't been hard to follow Jet. His fervour in the fight against the Fire Nation was right and good when the Fire Nation had killed everyone you ever loved. But in the end, it was the Earth Kingdom who killed him. Their thanks for the years he'd put into protecting those the Earth Kingdom soldiers considered acceptable casualties and the scars he'd earned fighting the battles they considered inconsequential.

Longshot hadn't always agreed with him, especially as they got older and Jet became more obsessive, but Longshot resolved to remember Jet as the hero he'd been when they met, the hero he'd been when he died—fighting for freedom and justice, protecting those weaker than himself, inspiring courage in those who followed him.

**A/N: This doesn't really feel finished to me, but I'm not sure where to go from here. I don't want to follow this (which I personally believe is some of my best writing) with pointless filler. I guess I'll update if inspiration strikes. Which I hope it does. ****There are actually a couple of ideas kicking around in my head that I would like to include, but I can't seem to get them out in an acceptable form at present.**


	2. Chapter 2: Memories

Longshot remembered meeting Jet. Wandering, stumbling in the ashes of everything he'd ever known, three figures materialized through the smoke and morning fog. He regarded them dully through red-rimmed eyes set in a soot-streaked face. Three boys near his age, two taller than he and probably year or two older. "I'm Jet and these are my Freedom Fighters: Sneers and Pipsqueak." Longshot had nodded in response, barely seeing them, both of his hands clutching his father's bow in front of him.

"Pipsqueak, you'll have to carry him; we need to get him out of the smoke and he looks about ready to fall over."

And he must have, for the next thing he remembered was opening his eyes and seeing Jet's face above him. "Awake, are you? We're treating your burns; don't worry, you're going to be okay." The feeling of coolness on his arms, the sound of Sneers cursing the Fire Nation under his breath as he carefully wrapped Longshot's arms in ointment-soaked bandages, the welcome taste of cool water in the cup Pipsqueak held for him.

"This is gonna scar pretty bad, Jet," Sneers cautioned.

"Probably," Jet agreed, "but he'll live—doesn't matter much what something looks like so long as it works." Jet picked up the bow and held it where Longshot could see it. "So you're an archer—You any good with this thing?"

Longshot nodded. His father had been impressed, had said he had natural talent.

Jet smiled. "Great. We could certainly use an archer. We'll have to get you some arrows or something to make 'em from—your dad teach you how to make arrows?"

Longshot nodded again and Jet grinned.

ooo

Longshot remembered meeting Smellerbee. She was a tiny, bedraggled person Jet and Pipsqueak had brought into the camp whose fear-filled eyes looked all around her as if expecting attack from all sides. "Longshot, get her something to eat while I see if I can find some clothes that'll fit her." She wore only a torn and dirty shift, shivering by the fire. Longshot put a bowl of hot soup in her hands and wrapped a blanket around her narrow shoulders. She stared at the bowl as if unsure what it was, so Longshot put it to her lips to have her drink and she grasped his arm as though she might fall over without his support.

It didn't take long for her to prove she was far from the helpless creature she had first appeared. Her skill with knives was truly frightening, and she fought with a feral ferocity. She was the most beautiful creature the young archer had ever seen.

ooo

"Seriously? You two share a bed and you don't actually…?"

Smellerbee felt her face heating with a violent blush, but she wasn't exactly sure why. What was so embarrassing or shameful about sharing a bed with Longshot? It had never felt anything but natural to her, and Longshot had never given her any sign he felt any differently.

"What's wrong with sharing a bed? I've been sleeping with Longshot since forever!"

Jet doubled over, laughing so hard he held his sides as though in pain. "Longshot, my friend," he choked out through his hysterical laughter, "all I can say is you're a better man than I."

Smellerbee looked from Jet to Longshot and back, feeling distressed. There was something here she didn't understand and from the way Jet was looking at the both of them, there was a very distinct sense that she _should_ understand. Jet's words seemed like a compliment, but the look on his face was clearly mocking, and Longshot didn't seem pleased by their leader's "praise" either. He stood very still, a stoic expression frozen on his face. It was rare that Smellerbee couldn't read him, and when she couldn't it was never a good sign.

"Look, I just don't understand why this is supposed to be funny, Jet."

Jet grinned lopsidedly. "You know, I could give you a few pointers, maybe teach—" He broke off, shocked, an arrow pinning his shirt collar to the large tree at his back. His eyes were wide. Longshot had another arrow nocked and ready, pointing at the ground. "I didn't mean it, Longshot. It-it was— I _really _didn't mean it."

Longshot slowly un-nocked the arrow without taking his eyes off Jet's face. Smellerbee didn't think she had ever seen Longshot angry with Jet, but at least he had accepted Jet's apology.

"Look," Jet said, pulling at the arrow to free his shirt, "forget I said anything, okay? Both of you. It's none of my business anyway."

Longshot nodded and Jet handed him the arrow he had managed to tug out of the tree without breaking. "Good shooting, friend; I'd be in big trouble if you ever decided you wanted to shoot me and not just my shirt."

ooo

Before the Freedom Fighters, Smellerbee had fuzzy memories of a mother. The soft, welcoming warmth of Mother's embrace, Mother's smell and snippets of Mother's voice singing lullabies…Mother's gentle hands stroking her hair as she drifted off to sleep. She couldn't remember what her mother looked like, but often when she saw her own reflection she wondered if she looked anything like her mother. It seemed unlikely, since she herself didn't even look like a girl.

Maybe there was something mothers taught their daughters, something she had missed out on that helped them turn out looking like girls. There had been other girls in the Freedom Fighters, and while they hadn't been clean and combed with ribbons and bows, they somehow managed to look enough like girls that there was no mistaking. She hadn't spent much time with them. She was unsure if even they knew she was a girl.

Her first night in the forest, she had clung to Longshot's arm with all the strength she had. He hadn't tried to push her away or make her let go. He'd simply taken her to a bed in the tree house and laid her down beside him. His fingers had gently stroked her hair until she finally fell asleep, relaxing her grip on his arm. He had still been there by her side when she awoke in the morning. Looking into his eyes, she saw patience and raw memories of his own loss that showed he understood. She knew she was always welcome at his side.

The Freedom Fighters often shared beds, especially the younger ones. Sometimes for the practicality of warmth during winter months, and sometimes because their numbers outstripped the construction of new beds. Jet didn't organize anyone's sleeping arrangements other than his own and didn't get involved unless it came to his attention that someone had nowhere to sleep.

It wasn't until they were away from the forest, among the people who lived as families with fathers and mothers in houses and towns and cities that she began to realize that for people the age of her and Longshot it wasn't at all normal to share a bed, unless it was with a sibling of the same gender—which was, ironically, what most everyone assumed they were.

**A/N: So it's a lot longer than the first chapter, and I debated splitting it into two chapters, but ultimately decided to post the whole thing. It's all flashbacks (obviously), so I guess it makes sense to put it all together. Mostly, I guess I just was excited about what I'd written and eager to share. Hope you enjoyed it. :) Let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3: Together

The moon shone silvery white through the open window above the bed. Cool night air spilled over the moonlit sill and drifted across the two forms lying side by side, not yet asleep.

"Longshot?"

He turned onto his side and propped himself on an elbow to show her she had his full attention. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around them.

"Don't—" Her voice broke. "Don't ever leave me."

He pulled her into his embrace, tightening his arms around her and crushing her to his chest. His breath came raggedly. Don't leave her? She might as well ask the earth to stay beneath her feet or the sun to rise in the morning. Longshot was an archer, Longshot rarely spoke, Longshot was with Smellerbee; she was as much a part of his identity as his own face, maybe more so.

"I guess what I meant was…try not to die."

Holding her so he could look into her face, he nodded solemnly. They were both pretty good at the "not dying" thing, better together than they would ever be apart. He couldn't imagine life without her, didn't want to. He lay down again and settled her against his shoulder, his arm around her. He heard her sigh and felt her relax against him.

The moonlight brushed the silver sheen on the pair of hook-swords that hung on the apartment's wall and cast distorted shadows against the wall as Longshot himself finally drifted off to sleep.

ooo

"Longshot, what exactly does 'married' mean? What? I seriously don't know. I mean, I know most people with babies and little kids are married—a family, with a mom and a dad who are married. I guess I just don't really understand how people _get_ married."

He shrugged. He didn't know either. Then he shot her a mischievous look that made her splutter.

"What! I-I don't— How, what, why— You!" She hit him hard in the chest and he caught her fist and held it gently, smiling slightly down at her.

She gave him a bit of an embarrassed grin. "Well, not _right now_ anyway. That's not why I brought it up. I don't think we're actually old enough yet; there's probably rules about it or something."

Then he tilted her face upwards and did something she'd seen people, some of them married people, do. His lips were soft and gentle on hers, and she gasped a little at the sensation. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed her before—on the forehead mostly or on the cheek when they were younger, but this was…different somehow.

They stood for a while together, him still holding the hand with which she had punched him, looking into each other's eyes. "The one thing I do know about marriage," she said finally, "is that it's supposed to mean the two people will stay together forever, and usually means they have kids together. I don't think I want to have kids right now, but I _do_ want to be with you forever; it's what I've always wanted."

He'd already known, of course, just as she had known he wouldn't leave her. But it still felt wonderful to hear her say it. His eyes shone with what was almost certainly the greatest joy he'd felt in all his life.

**A/N: Is this the end? I don't really know where to go from here, and it sort of could end like this. The thing is I _love_ Smellerbee and Longshot, and I don't _want_ it to end! I hope you enjoyed this instalment whether it turns out to be the final chapter or not. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.**


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